


Gabby

by Zighana



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: A Weird One, Backstory, Canon Side Character, Church elements, F/M, Give Sad Eyes More Screentime, Love Story, Marriage, Parenthood, Pregnant Character, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zighana/pseuds/Zighana
Summary: Sad Eyes is contemplating the future after Oscar leaves for Bakersfield; Cleo has to manage her new identity as a single mother when Oscar has disappeared without a trace. Both come together after a fender bender and sets them both on a completely different path than expected.
Relationships: Oscar "Spooky" Diaz/Original Female Character(s), Sad Eyes/Original Female Character
Kudos: 17





	1. Beat Goes On

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the Season(or Series?) Finale of On My Block, Takes place before, during, and after The Funeral. Honestly, even though Sad Eyes has very little screen time, I wanted to give him some love. Btw, if you a The Internet fan, the chapter titles are the songs from that band! Little nuggets for y'all.

**8 years ago**

Cleo drives home, the bag of prenatal vitamins jingling with each bump in the road. The ultrasound was a success; it’s a baby girl. She’s yet to figure out the name for it… _her_. The months before she’d had every concept of a girl’s name imaginable, and now at this moment she hasn’t a clue. 

Had she been a boy her name would’ve been Oscar Jr. 

Oscar’s name leaves a sour taste in her mouth. 

It’s been two weeks since she’d heard from him, two weeks since she’d blown up his phone and left several voicemails to the point his mailbox was full. She’d driven by his house, passed through places he’d hang out at, even visited Dwayne’s restaurant to see if he would by chance be there for a quick bite. 

Their last encounter wasn’t the best, to add insult to injury; a night of passion in the backseat of his car and waking up the morning after to an empty car and a hastily written note that said _I’m sorry._ isn’t the type of disappearing act she appreciates, especially since she’s the mother of his child, a child he _insisted_ she keep.

She tightens her grip on the steering wheel and evens her breathing. 

It won’t do being angry; it won’t change her situation and it certainly isn’t good for the baby. 

“Your daddy ain’t shit, yes he is,” she coos to her stomach, rubbing soothing circles into it. 

She’s home free, she sees her apartment on the horizon. Her mind drifts off to the much needed rest she’s going to have: she’s going to take a bath to soothe her swollen feet and aching muscles, call her mother and ask about girl clothes for the baby, she’s going to-

She and her car lurches forward and freezes to a halt. She snaps to reality and the color drains from her face. 

A jalapeno green lowrider greets her, her car too close from comfort. When she backs up, the bumper has been bent and the paint scratched. 

_“You fucking bitch what the fuck did you do?”_

Her stomach plummets to her stomach. 

This lanky and thin man runs to her car door and pounds on it. 

“You hit my fucking car! Open the fucking door!” He screams, his breath fogging up her window. 

When he tries to pull the car door open, Cleo can’t hear anything outside of her heart threatening to beat out of her chest. Her breathing gets faster, her head feels light as a feather, and she, for a moment, wonders if this is how she’s going to die: pregnant, alone, and about to have a heart attack in front of a screaming man pounding on her car door. 

Before she could react, her chest started to cramp. She clutches her chest, her breathing becoming pants and wheezes. 

This is it.

This is the big one. 

The man stops pounding.

“Hey, hey, HEY!” He smacks the glass. He steps back, running his fingers through his hair and in an instant, the glass shatters and her car door swings open. Cleo feels her body not touch the ground and she’s floating, floating until she’s laid out on the hood of someone’s car. 

She turns her head and the man is rifling through her car and picks up her bag of prenatals. His hostile expression vanishes from his face and he looks at her with horror and panic. 

“Oh, shit!” He moans to himself. He walks to her and cups her face. 

“Hey, hey.” He commands her, patting her cheek. 

“Breathe, breathe.” He mimics deep breaths. 

She does, her chest cramps lessening and finally her heart relaxes. 

“The baby,” She hears herself saying, “is the baby okay?” 

“I’m gonna take you to the hospital. Okay?”

All she could do is nod. 

~~~

Robert leaves the pregnant woman on the hood of his car and runs into his house to grab his keys. 

“What the hell just happened?” His aunt asks, her body still leaned against the window. 

“Pregnant lady hit my car and I think I scared her half to death.” he summarizes, slamming the door shut. He grabs the woman, slides her into the passenger seat of his car, and buckles her in. 

He rubs his temples, turns on the car, and drives off to the hospital. 

“What seems to be the problem?” 

“My...pregnant girlfriend saw a raccoon and next thing I knew she say she having a heart attack,” he lies. The woman has been placed in a wheelchair and wheeled into a room.

“What’s her name?” 

Robert tries to remember the name on the prenatals he’d seen. 

“Cleopatra...Washington.” 

The clerk types it in. 

“May I ask your name?” 

“Robert. Robert Cortes.” 

“Would you like to go see her to make sure her and the baby are okay?”

“Yeah...sure.” 

He’s walked into the room and is greeted with the pregnant woman with her legs in stirrups and the doctor looking inside. 

The doctor pops her head up and greets him. 

“Well, Ms. Washington. The father is here to offer comfort.” She tells the woman. 

She sees him and the color drains from her face.

“Oh, no,” she whispers. 

“I come to make sure you’re okay, _sweetheart_.” He says, sitting next to her. 

“Well from the looks of things it appears she’s suffered a panic attack. Her blood pressure is higher than normal but from her bloodwork her symptoms are benign. The attack hasn’t affected the baby at all.”

Robert and the woman sigh in relief. 

“You do need to take it easy, however. I’ll prescribe you some anti-anxiety medication that won’t affect the pregnancy and I’ll send you on your way. Mr. Cortes, could you leave the room so Ms. Washington can get dressed?”

Robert rises from the chair and leaves the room. Minutes later, the woman comes out of the room with her coat draped over her arm. She won’t even look him in the eye. 

“I’ll contact my insurance and you’ll contact yours. It’s gonna be a bitch to pay but I was at fault.” She croaks out. 

“I don’t have insurance.” He replies. 

“And since I’m basically meeting you with your legs in the air, I think you’ve suffered enough.” 

She flinches. 

“The shit is minor, I can fix it.” He offers. 

“Are you a mechanic?” She asks.

“I just fix old cars and make them look good for car shows and shit.” Robert shrugs his shoulders. . 

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl.” 

“Got a name?”

“Not yet.” 

“The dad in the picture?” 

“That’s a little personal.” 

“Alright, my bad.” He holds his hands up. She bites her lips and sighs. 

“He’s not in the picture.” She admits. 

“He just...disappeared. He wanted the fucking thing and he left when I’m 18 weeks in.” She adds. 

“Okay, that is… _personal_ personal.” Robert says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

He looks at the floor before facing her. 

“Well...if you need your car fixed, I can...fix it for you. You’re pregnant, and single, so mechanics like to take advantage of you.”

They exit the hospital. 

“How much is it gonna cost me?” 

“$750. I gotta get some parts and paint for your Volkswagen.” He sniffs, “Next time, get a Nissan. They last longer. Japanese cars are where it’s at.”

He opens the passenger door for her. She pauses. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” She asks. Robert taps the car door. 

“Single moms are a soft spot for me.” He confesses, “Y’all always have that scared look in your eye, like you have no one there to protect you.” 

She makes a face, cocks her hip to the side, and finally gets in his car after shaking her head. 

They pull up to her car. She unbuckles and is about to leave when he grabs her wrist softly. 

“You can call me Bobby. Or Sad Eyes.” 

She eyes him. 

“Why do they call you Sad Eyes?” 

“It’s a long story.” He answers.

She closes the door and leans against the passenger seat. The car lights have her on full display: a babydoll face, soft and plush body, deep brown skin, and doe brown eyes. Her plump brown lips pull into a sarcastic smirk, the gap in her front teeth visible. 

“Well, Bobby, I’m Cleo. Thank you for this...horrific adventure, but I have to get home. I’ll call you once I get the $750 and can schedule the appointment.” 

She slips his hand out of his hold and leaves to her car. 

Robert watches her leave and walks back inside his house, dodges the nosy questions by his aunts and cousins, and goes to bed.


	2. Violet Nude Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cleo and Robert meet again.

“Tellin’ you man, there’s never a dull moment in Freeridge.” Robert says. He’s at his favorite auto shop, and mom and pop business on the outskirts of Freeridge that offers good deals and is very Santos friendly. 

Oscar, through the phone, sucks his teeth.

“Can’t believe you not only didn’t make her pay for the damages, you offered to fix her car.” Oscar says. 

“I mean, I gave the girl a heart attack and she was _pregnant_. I didn’t want that on my conscience, making her stress herself into a miscarriage.” Robert picks up another tool kit and studies the wrenches. 

“Got to quit letting people take advantage of your kindness, Sad Eyes.” 

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m not doing this to be nice. I’m getting paid for it and I didn’t want to feel guilty for scaring the shit out of a pregnant lady.” Robert scratches her nose. 

He sets the basket down at the counter. The owner, a Chilean with noticeable tattoos all over his body, greets him with a curt nod and rings him up. 

“Alright, man. Just don’t be weird.” Oscar says. 

“You eat fries with mayonnaise. I can’t get weirder than that.” Robert eyes the price on the register. 

“Expand your palate, homie.” 

“$79.42.” The owner announces. Robert slips him a hundred dollar bill. 

“I’m not trying the mayonnaise with my fries. That’s nasty.” 

Robert gets his change. 

“I thought the same thing, but this girl I was talking to put me on. She added some garlic salt and some barbecue sauce to it? Fire, homie.”

“Which girl? Lupe with the two kids or that one girl you been seeing off and on. What’s her face.”

“It’s the black girl.”

“You never did tell me much about her. How come I never met her?” Robert crams the change and the receipt in his bag and leaves the shop. 

“Didn’t want to hear y’all talking shit.” 

“That’s _them_. _I_ wouldn’t have had a problem with it.” Robert walks to his car. 

“I’m chill about that sort of thing. I would’ve adapted. _They_ would’ve adapted.”

A pause.

“Well it’s over, now. We broke up.” 

Robert starts driving. 

“How you like Bakersfield?” 

“It’s boring as fuck with nothing to do. So I guess...it’s perfect.” 

“You get to start fresh. That’s a perk, right?”

He pulls up to his driveway. 

“I gotta get back to work. Talk to you soon.” 

“Aight, homie.”

They both hang up. 

Robert exits his car and before he could open the door his nosy aunts, Margarita and Cheryl, greet him with crossed arms and pursed lips. 

“So what happened with that pregnant girl?” Aunt Margarita asks, “Is she going to pay for what happened with your car?” 

His Aunt Cheryl swats her shoulder. 

“Why’d you have to come out the bat with it? Let the boy get in the door,” Aunt Cheryl chastises. Robert bypasses them and sets his purchases down on the couch. 

“Well, I didn’t charge her. I could repair the shit myself, so I didn’t stress about it.” Robert says, tinkering with a torque wrench. 

“You let this woman damage your car and you just...Bobby, sometimes I wonder if you really are my sister’s son.” 

“Honey, don’t be so mean to Bobby. He had his reasons. Don’t you, Bobby?” Aunt Cheryl asks, rubbing her wife’s exasperated shoulder. 

“I gave her a panic attack and I’m charging her $750 for repairs since I ain’t got insurance and can’t do it the legal way. Besides,” He gives a half smile, “She’s got a ‘96 Volkswagen Beetle. I been dying to get my hands on one of those things.” 

“I don’t see why you don’t quit playing around and open up your own mechanic shop. You got a passion for it.” 

“We went over this Auntie,” Robert says, “They won’t issue loans out to people with records.” 

“Your talent can override a criminal record.” Aunt Cheryl offers. 

“ _Auntie Cheryl,_ ” Robert stresses, “Drop it.” 

She does. For now, at least. 

When the Volkswagen Beetle with the broken window pulls into his driveway, Robert has all of his tools and is waiting in the open garage. 

“You must be loaded to be able to pull $750 out your ass.” He greets Cleo. She’s dressed more comfortably: a maternity blue dress and orthopedic white shoes that don’t go together. 

“You know how long it’s going to take?” She asks him. 

“Couple of hours, considering I have to replace the window and fix the dents in the hood and front bumper. Might have to pop the hood to make sure you didn’t fuck up anything else.” 

“What do I do until then?” 

“You could sit here and watch me work, or get acquainted with the neighborhood, which I wouldn’t recommend. A woman like you would get snatched up.” 

Cleo bristles at the statement. 

“I got you some beer. I didn’t know which one you wanted, so I played it safe and got some Modelo’s.”

“Is it because I’m Mexican?” 

Cleo’s face slips into horror. Robert laughs.

“Kidding. Though I’m not a fan of Modelo’s. I’m a Budweiser type.”

Cleo pulls out the pack of beers and hands it to him. 

“My ex loved Modelo’s. He called it the superior beer.” She explains. Robert takes a sip and twists his mouth at the taste. 

“Your ex got some weird taste buds. At least it’s ice cold,” he says, setting the beer can down. 

“I wanted to say thank you. For...helping me and doing this.” She says after Robert gets into his groove. Robert takes out his headphones and eyes her. 

“You’re welcome. You still paying me that $750, right?” 

Cleo digs into her purse and hands him the money. He counts it twice before putting it into his back pocket. 

“Consider us even.” He announces. 

“How long have you been working on cars?” She asks. 

“A while, since I was fourteen. Pop was a mechanic.” Robert grunts as he manages to remove the bumper. 

“Okay. Cool, cool.” She nods her head and sits down on his driveway. Robert takes a glance at her engine and winces.

“When’s the last time you had an oil change?” He asks, pulling out the dipstick and seeing black oil. 

“...I never got around to that.”

“I can change your oil for an extra fifty bucks.” 

“What am I, made out of money?” She cries. 

“Clearly for you to pull $750 within twenty-four hours.” 

“I had to borrow money from my dad.” 

“Your dad?” Robert smirks, “Spoiled little rich girl, huh?” 

“I am not!” Cleo replies, trying not to smile.

“I will admit I am a Daddy’s Girl. But my dad isn’t an ATM.”

“A man will spend money on his car, and from the looks of things I’m doing you a favor because...it’s gonna go downhill from here.” Robert wipes his hand on the rag and flashes his flashlight into the engine. 

“You need an oil change, a battery replacement, new spark plugs, a new alternator, and...it appears your AC hose has been chewed up...by...rats, judging by the teeth marks.” He assesses. 

“Your check engine light ever come on?” 

“Yeah, but I thought it was some...minor shit…” 

“Nah. Your car is a shitstorm waiting to happen.” He clicks off the flashlight. 

“You got a couple options. You could take it to those auto shops that will charge you out the ass for the parts and labor, or you can bring it to me and just pay for the parts. Your call.” 

“I’ll see how you do with the things you’re fixing now.”

“Check the back of my car and come back.” 

“What?” 

Robert wipes the grease on his pants. 

“That green car you hit yesterday? Look at it and come back. That’s all me.” 

Cleo raises an eyebrow but obeys, sashaying to his car. He doesn’t even hide his cocky grin when she comes back and says, “you’re good.”

“I know, huh?”

Cleo closes her eyes tightly. 

“Where can I find these parts?” 

~~~

By the time Robert was finished, the sun was about to set and he’d run through the six pack of Modelo’s. Cleo leaned against her car, snoring softly, when he woke her up. 

“You’re good to go.” He tells her. Cleo wipes the drool from her face. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry. This baby takes a lot out of me.” She apologizes, taking Robert’s hand and pulling her to her feet. 

“You’re good. I promise you.” He replies. He walks her to her driver’s seat. 

“Will I be seeing you again?” He asks. She sucks her teeth. 

“I guess so. Got my car looking good as new.” She answers with a soft smile. She turns on the ignition and the car roars to life.

“Whatever you did to get this engine purring like this? You’re good.” She says, rubbing her dashboard. 

“You got my number. Tell your friends.” Robert taps the roof of her car. 

“God, I could just kiss you.” 

“Buy me better beer instead.”

“Deal.” 

She’s gone after that. Robert watches her leave and resigns to cleaning his work station. 

~~~

Cleo taps her steering wheel, humming a cheery tune, until she gets closer to Oscar’s house. 

His cherry red car is still there…

Mocking her. 

The negative feelings swirl in her head like a storm, her hands wearing wrinkles into the steering wheel. 

Without thinking about it, she parks in front of the car and she’s at the trunk of her car. Her stomach twists into knots with adrenaline when she pops the trunk and the aluminum bat greets her. Her apartment has been a hotspot for carjackings. One can’t be too careful. 

She lifts the bat, feeling its weight. She takes a few careful swings before zeroing in on that pristine candy paint. 

_Don’t do this,_ she thinks. _Take the high road, go home._

“Fuck that, fuck that and fuck him,” She mutters to herself. She skims the length of the car with the bat, fantasies of what she would do to his car getting louder and louder. 

He’s gonna fuck her and leave her?

She lifts the bat in the air, ready to bring it down on his windshield with all the strength in her body. 

He’s gonna regret it. 

“Fuck are you doing?” 

She turns on her heel with the bat, the bat stopping just in time before connecting with Cesar’s neck. He didn’t even flinch. 

The two look at each other, daring the other to speak any further. 

“Your brother left me. I’m the mother of his _fucking_ child. _Let me have this_.” She whispers. Cesar looks at the car and back at her. His face is softer, his eyes almost sympathetic. 

“It won’t make him come back.” 

“Where did he go?” Her voice is shaky now, her hold on the bat wavering. Cesar comes close, pushing the bat out of the way. In one swift motion, he pulls her into a tight hug. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. 

The bat clatters to the pavement, and Cleo allows herself to cry. She wails in Cesar’s embrace, burying herself deeper. 

“He promised me,” she blubbers out, “he promised he’d never leave me.” 

He only holds her tighter, rocking her side to side until her crying stops.


End file.
